I have a special relationship with green chili.  My father loves this dish, and would go out of his way to get a bowl from his favorite spot, when I was a boy.  I remember trying a taste, and being first alarmed by the spice, then intrigued by the evolving flavor.  As a young chef, working on the plaza in Santa Fe (during the Southwestern Cuisine boom) I had very strong opinions about what constituted a legit green chili.  In Northern New Mexico, green chili is sacred.  Almost any dish will be served swimming in it by simply ordering it “smothered”.  If you want half red chili (not the bean and ground beef thing you’ll find in a can, but something more like a sauce made from little more than dried chili pods) you order it “Christmas”.

The first time I cooked for my wife, I made green chili and fresh flour tortillas.  I could tell I had her attention as I watched her expression change with that first bite.  She confessed that she had never achieved a good flour tortilla, but had made marginal crackers in the attempt.  To this day, I suspect her recounting of this meal to her father was pivotal in his granting her hand to me, a couple years later. 

It’s hard to find great green chili, outside of its traditional range.  Often, you’ll find diced caned tomatoes in it.  This is criminal.  Ground pork is also unacceptable.  The worst I ever happened upon was in a hotel in which I had just started working.  The kitchen manager handed me a recipe and told me to make a batch.  I read it, handed it back, and told him I could no more fabricate that monstrosity than I could kick a golden retriever puppy.  Before he had a chance to fire me, I offered to make mine and let him compare it to the crusty pan of his, sitting in the steam table.  The guy was a dink, and had the hotel manager not been standing there, would surely have given me the boot.  The Hotel manager piped up and said “Yeah, the green chili’s crap.  Let’s see what he’s got.”  The old recipe, I kid you not, had no green chilies in it.  It was ground beef, caned tomatoes, green bell peppers, buffalo wing sauce, and green food coloring.  Long story short, I had that guy’s job by the end of the week.

The hatch chili is the heart of this dish.  They require my whole growing season to mature, but not too much water.  I also like to grow “big Jims” to have for rellenos, and some “dynamite” for extra heat.  I want to sweat when I eat this dish.  At proper strength, it should be medicinal.  It should drain your head more effectively than any cold medicine and improve circulation.  At harvest time, I roast them on a gas grill, and freeze them in quart bags.  Some folks peel them before freezing, but I find they peel better after thawing, and I’d rather spread the monotony of chili peeling over multiple sessions.  There is no fragrance quite like roasting green chili.  It’s my wife’s favorite.  Even in Colorado, the green chili in the super market is not qualified for this dish.  Commercial chilies, whether canned or frozen, are invariably steamed, not flame roasted.  If you don’t grow your own, pick up a bushel from a roadside stand in the fall, if they have them where you are.  A better option is to buy fresh ones and roast your own.  You can blacken the skins on a gas burner, under the broiler, on the grill, or over hot coals.  Once black all over, put them in a plastic bag to sweat for ten minutes.  Peel them or freeze for later.

In this batch, I used a picnic roast of pork. This is an extravagance that I can afford because I’m meat rich.  That’s one advantage to being a farmer.  Any cut of pork is fine, but I recommend something from the shoulder, as the fattier meat will carry the heat from the chili better, and give this stew a silkier mouth feel.  In my purist opinion, it is acceptable to garnish this dish with shredded cheese, fresh cilantro, and sour cream, for the timid.  The next time you have a head cold, or just want to spice up your life, give it a try!

Ingredients:

2 ½ lbs.  Pork

1 yellow onion, ½” dice

3 cloves garlic, sliced

2 cups chopped, roasted and peeled green chili

¼ cup flour

3 Tbl bacon grease or lard

4 cups chicken stock

1 Tbl cumin

Salt to taste

Directions:

Dice pork into ¾” cubes.  Heat bacon grease or lard in a large cast iron pan.  Dust half of the pork with flour, and shake in a sieve, over a bowl, to remove excess flour.  Brown the first half of the pork until very well caramelized.  Transfer the meat into a soup pot, or crockpot, leaving the fat in the pan for the next half.  Use the flour caught in the bowl to dust the second half of pork, and brown it.  Transfer this into the pot, as well.  In the remaining fat, sauté onions and garlic until caramelized, and add to the pot.  Pour chicken stock into the pot.  (I pressure can my own, made from necks and feet collected on slaughter day.  I reduce it to about 4x strength, before canning.  Recipe coming the next time I process!)  Add the green chili.  Bring to a simmer and add cumin and salt.  Simmer for two hours.  The residual flour on the pork will slightly thicken the broth, resulting in a silky, but not overly gravy-like result. 

Serve it straight, or with the above suggested garnishes and fresh flour tortillas.

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